


I’ll Need Accomplices

by uboat53



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II
Genre: Comedy, Humor, Thievery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-13
Updated: 2018-09-13
Packaged: 2019-07-12 00:35:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,009
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15983822
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/uboat53/pseuds/uboat53
Summary: Hawke has been challenged to a thieving competition with Fenris.  In order to complete this task, she decides to set up an elaborate scheme involving most of her friends and a large number of unwitting accomplices.  Insanity ensues, but can she win her challenge?





	I’ll Need Accomplices

**Author's Note:**

> So this is a piece I wrote in 2015 for a Dragon Age 2 Reverse Big Bang. The prompt was a picture of a Female Hawke running down the street with a grin, a scimitar, and a flintlock pistol. This is what a came up with out of that, enjoy.

            Hawke ran down the dark alleys of Kirkwall’s Lowtown with the ‘flint’ in her hand, the sounds of squealing nugs and Fenris’ roared “Hawke!” following her from the Hanged Man.  She chuckled as she thought of the scene she had left behind her.

            It wasn’t as if any of this had been easy; to the contrary, this had taken a full week of careful preparation and Hawke had almost slipped on Sebastian’s pulpit on the way out, which would have completely spoiled her exit.  But it was all worth it; the thought of Fenris, Sebastian, and Anders struggling in a herd of stampeding nugs would keep her amused for years to come and Isabela was sure to get a good price for this trinket.

            Darting around the corner that led to the docks, Hawke slipped into a small alleyway to catch her breath and let her laughter fade.  Odd that all of this had sprung from one of Isabela’s wild fantasies.

 

**Seven Days Ago, Late In The Evening…**

 

            “Honestly, I’m not sure where you put them,” Fenris remarked, shaking his head in disbelief as Isabela won another hand, “There doesn’t seem to be much room in that outfit for all those spare cards you must keep handy.”

            Isabela chuckled, sweeping the coppers on the table into her pile with a suggestive smirk, “You’d be surprised what I can fit in this tunic.”

            “I imagine I would,” Fenris replied, tossing a copper in the pot for the next game, “I think I’ll make this my last game of the night, I should probably go somewhere to lick my wounds before I try again.”

            “I thought we were going to hear about the giant spider incident tonight,” Isabela remarked.

            “Leaving so soon elf?” Varric asked, “I’m just starting to pick up Rivaini’s tells.”

            “Are you?” Merrill asked, “I’m certainly not.  I suppose that’s why I never win at these games.”

            The five of them were sitting at a table in the Hanged Man back by the stairs.  Isabela, Varric, and Fenris were playing cards, Hawke and Merrill had folded out of the game a few hands ago.

The smell of wood smoke and unwashed bodies was comfortably familiar here, and with the sun having fallen low outside, the place was now lit only by the light of the sputtering torches on the walls.  The floor was as grimy as ever, but they had found a table and chairs that were cleaner than Hawke had expected.

            Hawke smiled and nuzzled closer to Fenris, he was surprisingly comfortable when you found a part of him that wasn’t sharp.  She had folded out a few hands ago and was just enjoying the conversation.

            “It’s all in the eyes kitten,” Isabela was saying as Varric prepared to deal, “You just have to see the little…”

            Isabela trailed off for a moment as her eyes tracked something behind Varric’s head.

            “Oh shit, she’s back,” she hissed.

            “Who’s back?” Hawke asked, trying to follow Isabela’s gaze.

            “Captain Trombull,” Isabela said, ducking as if trying to hide behind Varric, “I worked with her for a bit out of Denerim.  Saying we never got along would be putting it nicely.”

            Hawke finally found who Isabela was looking at, a rotund woman in a long coat and a hat with a brim wide and floppy enough that it touched her shoulders.  She jangled with chains, necklaces, and rings, but Hawke’s eyes were sharp enough to pick out that most of them were just iron with gold paint on them.  There was one thing that caught her eye, though.

            “What’s that thing in her belt?” Hawke asked.  It looked like a curved piece of wood decorated with real gold at every edge and some parts of it that weren’t actually edges.

            “It’s a ‘flint’,” Isabela said, “Only thing of value Trombull has except for her ship.  I don’t know how it works, but it’s a Rivaini weapon that uses the Qunari Gaatlock.  I could get a fortune for one of those.”

            Isabela made a sour face with the word ‘Qunari’.  Hawke knew how she felt; the Arishok wasn’t exactly the best of conversationalists and he was still leagues ahead of the other Qunari they’d met.  Still, they been pretty tight lipped about the secret to that Gaatlock powder.  Isabela was probably right about that thing being pretty valuable.

            “And you haven’t stolen it from her yet?” Hawke asked, “I’m surprised at you Isabela.”

            “Don’t think I haven’t tried,” Isabela replied, her eyes still on the odd device, “But Trombull knows me.  She won’t even take her hand off of it as long as I’m around.”

            “Sounds like you need an accomplice then,” Hawke said with a grin, “How much of a fortune are we talking about exactly?”

            “I was thinking of asking your boyfriend actually,” Isabela said, looking over at Fenris with a wry smile, “That lyrium ghost thing of his seems like just the trick for picking Trombull’s pocket.”

            Fenris shifted uncomfortably under Hawke.  He never did like scheming for his coin.  Come to think of it, Hawke wasn’t sure he’d actually made any coin since coming to Kirkwall.

            “Oh come on,” Isabela pressed, “You don’t need to reject me that quickly.”

            “I don’t think I’m the right person for this,” Fenris said, seeming to shrink down as if he was going to use his hand of cards as a shield.

            “Leave him be,” Varric said, starting to pass out the cards with a mischievous grin, “If he doesn’t think he could do it, then I’m sure he’s right.”

            Fenris stiffened and Hawke grinned, Varric wasn’t going to make it easy on him.

            “It’s not that I can’t…” Fenris began.

            “Well why else would you pass on such an opportunity,” Varric interrupted him, “I’m sure Hawke would be happy to show you how something like that is done.”

            “I’m sure she…” Fenris tried again.

            “Trombull’s a slaver,” Isabela said, leaning forward conspiratorially.

            Hawke hid a smile as she felt Fenris stiffen next to her, they certainly knew how to get him.

            “Is she,” Fenris said simply, it wasn’t a question.

            “I heard it from some boys down at the docks,” Isabela said, raising up her cards to partially hide her face, “Doesn’t surprise me really, she’s always been willing to do anything if there was coin in it.”

            Fenris looked down at his own cards but Hawke could tell he wasn’t really looking at them.  His eyes were distant, and when he did focus, his eyes went to the Captain just over Isabela’s shoulder.  Time to push the last button.

            “Well,” Hawke said, “if you don’t think you can manage it, I’m sure I can find another challenge for myself.  There are always plenty of people in this town who need things taken from them.”

            Fenris froze, staring at his cards.  He stared them for a long moment before he replied without looking away, his voice that slight bit harder than usual.

            “You’re on.”

 

**Six Days Ago, Late In the Morning.  Or Early, Depending On Your Perspective…**

 

            Hawke sat by the fire in her ancestral home.  Mother had been awake for hours, but Hawke had just gotten up and was defrosting by the fire.  Why did the house get so blasted cold in the winter?  The weather was perfectly nice if she just stepped outside.  Damned stone buildings.

            Isabela had finalized the rules for their contest; Captain Trombull was leaving Kirkwall on business that night and would be back in exactly one week.  Fenris and Hawke would both try to steal that ‘flint’ device she carried and deliver it to Isabela and her fence at the docks.  The winner would split the profits with her.

            Hawke stared into the flames as ideas formed in her head.  There was one thing she knew for sure.

            “I’ll need accomplices.”

 

**Six Days Ago, Later In The Afternoon…**

 

            “I’m serious Varric,” Hawke insisted, “I think it’s a great investment.”

            “Nugs?” Varric protested, astonished, “You want to invest in nugs?”

            “That pack I spotted this morning was a winner,” Hawke replied, “I’m sure of it.”

            Varric sighed and shook his head, “You realize how crazy this sounds, right?”

            They were in Varric’s room, just up the stairway from the main floor of the Hanged Man.  She had had to wait until a dwarf who distinctly Carta-ish had left the room before she could come in to talk to Varric.  He was reacting about how she had expected to her request.

            “Name a venture I’ve become involved in that hasn’t succeeded,” Hawke pressed.

            “That’s not exactly how I would have described our trip to the deep roads,” Varric replied, leaning against the broad table wearily with both hands, “Or Hubert’s Bone Pit.”

            “I think they all turned out well enough in the end,” Hawke said brightly, “Don’t worry, I won’t ask you to go in with me on this one, I just need someone to approach the merchants on my behalf, someone with Darven connections.  There’s good coin in it for you if you’ll act as my agent.”

            Varric sighed and pushed away from the table.  “You know I’ll do it if you really want,” he said, “I just want my objections on record so I can say ‘I told you so’ when you’re knee deep in nug shit.  You do know how much they shit, don’t you?”

            “Not to worry,” Hawke said cheerily, “I’ve got it all in hand.  Now, I’m busy for the rest of the week, could you have them meet me in six days?”

            “Aren’t you and Fenris settling your bet then?” Varric probed.

            “Already in hand,” Hawke waved her hand dismissively, “I’ll have plenty of time in the afternoon to deal with business.”

            “All right, I suppose you can manage your own time.  I’ll have it arranged.  I just hope Fenris’ pride has recovered from that spider.”

            “I’m sure he’s fine.  Thanks again,” Hawke said.  She began to step out the door, but paused just at entrance as if she had one more thought that had just come to her.

            “Oh yes,” she said, turning back to Varric, “I imagine a pack of nugs wouldn’t go over too well in Hightown, might also frighten mother.  Perhaps you could have them meet me at Tomwise’s stand in Darktown.”

            “Huh,” Varric grunted, “that’s probably the best idea you’ve had since you came in here.  I’ll make it happen.”

            Hawke walked down the stairs and out into the noise and crowd that was the Hanged Man.  It never seemed to matter what time of day it was, the place was always crowded with the oddest assortment of fools and drunks that one could imagine.

            She could probably frequent nicer establishments now, the haul from the expedition had left her a very wealthy woman and there were a few decent places in Hightown in addition to the Blooming Rose.  Still, there was something about the Hanged Man she enjoyed.  The danger, the mystique, the fact that many of those in the crowd would happily slide a knife into your ribs if they thought it would get them a few coppers.

            She allowed herself a pleased grin as she walked out the door, the first piece was in place.

 

**Four Days Ago, Shortly After Lunch…**

 

            “I don’t know, Hawke,” Sebastian said, his voice loaded with his usual indecision, “Are you sure it would be a good idea to set up a pulpit in The Hanged Man?”

            “You have to go to where the people are most in need of the Chant,” Hawke insisted, her voice dripping with sincerity, “You can’t simply expect them to come here to you.  The Maker’s work is out there.”

            Hawke and Sebastian stood in the main hall of the Kirkwall Chantry, huge golden statues of Andraste rising all around them.  She still wasn’t sure what Sebastian did here all day, but he always seemed to be here when she came in.  He couldn’t spend all of that time just standing around, could he?

            “It does sound like I could do good work there,” Sebastian mused, “I’ve seen more than one person stagger from that place who looks like they could use help finding their way.  Though, I can’t imagine the bartender looking too kindly on someone who is attempting to convince his customers not to partake of his wares.”

            “Probably not,” Hawke conceded, “But he might prefer having some favor with the Chantry.  Meredith has tried to shut down the place more than once in the last few months.”

            “It might work.  I wouldn’t need much space, after all,” Sebastian said, “Just a small altar where people could hear the Chant and seek redemption.”

            “There’s plenty of room in the corner near the door,” Hawke said, “Just across from the bar.  You could set up a small alter there and it wouldn’t even cost him any space that he was using for customers.”

            Sebastian considered, looking up at the largest of the statues of Andraste in the Chantry and stroking his chin.  Hawke forced herself to suppress a sly smirk, if this was going to work Sebastian had to believe she was sincere about this.  She forced herself to keep an innocent smile and a sincere twinkle in her eye.

            “You know, you’re right,” Sebastian said finally, still looking up at the statue, “I should go out into the world, find those who need healing.  I’ll talk to Elthina about it.”

            “Great,” Hawke said brightly, “I’ll talk to the bartender and get you the space.  When do you think you would begin?”

            “I can be there tonight if they are willing,” Sebastian said, “Thank you again Hawke, I appreciate all you’ve done to support the Chantry.”

            Hawke suppressed a burst of laughter and kept her innocent grin up.  She didn’t trust herself to talk, so she just nodded politely and headed out.  One more piece in place.

 

**Three Days Ago, Just Before Lunchtime…**

 

            “Tomwise, my good friend!” Hawke exclaimed with open arms as she approached the somber elf in his Darktown merchants’ stand.

            It smelled about as bad as it ever did in Darktown, but if you developed a feel for it, some of the places smelled worse than others.  She wasn’t sure that Tomwise had picked one of the worst places in Darktown, but it was certainly in the running.

            “Hawke,” Tomwise said, his face brightening as much as it ever did, “What brings you to Darktown today?  It’s not time for your usual first of the month requisition”

            “I noticed I’m running a bit low on ‘peeling juice’,” Hawke said, leaning casually against the side of his stand, “Do you have any in stock?”

            Tomwise bent down and rummaged through a few sacks that somehow seemed even filthier than usual.  He muttered as he did so, nothing intelligible as far as Hawke could discern.

            Occasional puffs of powder emanated from where he rummaged and Hawke briefly wondered how he’d managed to stay alive so long in the particular business he was in.  Nothing in there was probably very good for one’s health.

            “Ah, here it is,” he said in his usual monotone as he pulled a slender flask out from between two things that looked particularly disgusting, “Deathroot extract in a healthy dose of Elfroot.”

            He looked none the worse for wear, but it wasn’t as if he had looked all that good to begin with.

            Hawke smiled as she pocketed the flask and paid him the silver.  Aveline always got very upset when Hawke killed someone with poison, but she never seemed to notice this poison which made a person feel like their skin was being peeled off.  It distracted them just long enough for Hawke to sink her blade in without upsetting Aveline.

            She wasn’t actually out, of course, but she needed an excuse to visit and it never hurt to have a bit extra.

            “By the way,” she said, attempting to maintain her casual demeaner, “I was doing some business the other day and it occurs to me that I may have given my supplier the wrong delivery location.  I’m not sure, but I may have given them your stall instead of Hubert’s up in Hightown.  If anyone comes by with a delivery for me, can you direct them there instead?”

            Tomwise shook his head as his lips curled into what could have been mistaken for the beginnings of a weary smile.  Nothing ever did seem to surprise that man.

            “Of course Hawke,” he said, still in his usual monotone, “See you next time.”

            Hawke stepped deftly around a pile of mess that smelled vaguely of burning fish as she made her way back out of Darktown.  She decided she definitely didn’t want to know what it actually was.

            Still, a successful outing; one more piece in place.

 

**Three Days Ago, Just After Noon…**

 

            “Merrill, I’m so glad you’re home,” Hawke breezed into Merrill’s house, talking right past her surprised expression, “I have a favor I need to ask.”

            “Of course Hawke,” Merrill stammered, still blinking in surprise, “What do you need me to do?”

            “I’ll be leaving town for a day soon, and I was wondering if you would mind staying with mother while I’m away,” Hawke said, taking a seat at Merrill’s table.  She ignored the feeling of dust shifting under her and the giant cobweb that had developed over the table.

            Merrill sat down across from her, obviously still trying to collect her wits.  “Well, I don’t really know your mother that well.”

            “Oh, I’m sure you’ll get along fabulously,” Hawke declared, waving away Merrill’s objections, “Besides, mother could use some new company.  She so rarely gets out these days and it would do you good to get out of the alienage as well.  What do you say?”

            “Well, I suppose I could,” Merrill said, still not fully back in possession of her wits.

            “Wonderful,” Hawke exclaimed, standing before Merrill had a chance to recover, “Three days then?  We look forward to seeing you.”

            Hawke swept through the house to the door, pausing to give Merrill a hug, then she was out.  She made her way past the giant tree on her way out of the alienage with a giant grin on her face.  One more piece in place.

 

**Two Days Ago, The Quiet Of A Midafternoon…**

 

            Hawke climbed up the stairs at the edges of Darktown that led to Anders’ clinic.  It had been three years since she had met him here, but it was almost as if no time at all had passed by the level of dirt and grime that infused the place.  It was entirely possible that more had gathered in that time, but she wasn’t entirely sure how she would be able to tell.  Still, she supposed it was better than Fenris’ mansion which still had the dead bodies in it from when they had originally taken the place.

            She pushed open the door and stepped into Anders’ clinic.  The wave of smell hit her as she came in, but she was prepared for it this time.  No matter how bad Darktown smelled outside, for some reason the clinic was always worse.

            Anders was at the back, seated against the wall with a book and a drink.  He was engrossed in his reading as she came in and it was a moment before he realized that she was there.

            “Hawke,” he started when he saw her, spilling his drink, water, all over the ground, “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize you were coming.”

            “No need to make a fuss,” Hawke waved him down as he started to stand, “I just came by to check in.”

            Anders sat back down, putting his book down on a table or bench or whatever it was next to him.

            “I wanted to apologize for what happened the last time we went out,” he said, a slight wince evident in his face.

            “You never can control yourself when you and Fenris argue, can you?” Hawke replied with a slight smirk as she leaned against one of the support columns.  Something vertical had to be able to stay cleaner than the rest of the place, didn’t it?

            “I would think that, of all people, he would understand the plight of the mages,” Anders started.

            “And yet he never does,” Hawke finished, “But I’m not here about that.”

            “Oh?” Anders raised an eyebrow.

            “I came because it feels like an eternity since I’ve seen you,” she said.

            “I had thought I would give you some space,” Anders said, “I didn’t know how we…  With you and Fenris…”  He trailed off.

            “I do have my own mind you know,” Hawke chided, “Fenris is free to engage in his quarrels on his own.”

            “I’m relieved to hear you say that,” Anders said, his shoulders relaxing, “I was worried that I might have lost another friend because of my efforts.”

            “Ridiculous,” Hawke smiled as she waved away his suggestion, “Tell you what; why don’t you meet me at the Hanged Man and you can buy me a round or two to make up for the giant spider incident.”

            Anders chuckled quietly.  “I’d like that.  I could use an excuse to get away from the clinic.  It sometimes seems like I only ever see sick people and angry Templars anymore.”

            “Well, no promises on the first, but I think we can avoid the second,” Hawke said, “Shall we say in two days then, around sundown?”

            “It’s a date,” Anders replied.

            “Well, I should be off,” Hawke said, pushing off of the column and trying to ignore the slightly grimy feeling that stayed on her shoulder, “I’m sure you have plenty of patients to see.”

            Anders looked over at the dead bodies piled in the back of the clinic that she was looking pointedly at and laughed.

            “I will clean those out of here one day,” he said.

            Hawke smiled as she left in high spirits.  She paused briefly as she passed the stairway into her mansion’s cellar just outside Anders’ door and looked cautiously up at the muck and filth that dripped endlessly from the ceiling of Darktown.  She made a conscious decision not to think about exactly where the pipes from her toilet ended up.

            One more piece was in place.

 

**Yesterday, Lasting From Late Morning To Midafternoon …**

 

            “...and so I told him that he had to stay until they made up the losses from the collapse,” Hubert droned on.

Every time Hawke talked to him he seemed to think he had to give her a complete telling of all the happenings and goings on of the Bone Pit mine since the last time they had talked.  She had taken to not talking him that often anymore, so his "updates” kept getting longer every time.  She had been listening to him long enough this time that the shadows in the Hightown Market were in a visibly different place than when he had started.

“Sounds like a good idea,” Hawke said.  She hadn’t been listening to what he’d been saying, but that response usually seemed to lead to the shortest conversations, “Oh dear, look at the time, I really must be off.”

“Of course,” Hubert said agreeably, “I’m sure I’ve taken enough of your time already.”

“Not at all,” Hawke lied with a false smile plastered on her face, “It’s always good to keep up with the business of the mine.”

She turned to leave, then stopped as if she had just remembered something suddenly.  She had enough practice that she was beginning to fancy that she was getting better at this.

“Oh yes,” she turned back to Hubert, “I just realized that I may have mistakenly told a business associate from another venture to meet me here thinking that we were working on the Bone Pit.  Sometimes there are so many things going on at once that I have trouble telling them apart.  If they do happen to come by, would you please direct them to my house in the High Quarter?”

“It’s no problem,” Hubert said, his lips turned into as much of a polite smile as he was capable of, “I’m glad to see you are diversifying your business interests.”

Amusement rose inside Hawke, but she kept a plain smile on her face.  She wondered if he would still be glad if he knew about the nugs.

She let herself breathe out a long, weary sigh as she climbed the stairs back up to the main section of Hightown.  It had been long and boring, but another piece was in place.

 

**That Afternoon, Late In The Day…**

 

            “Hello Hawke,” Merrill said as Hawke opened the door.

            “Merrill,” Hawke said, waving her in, “Glad you could make it.  You didn’t have any trouble finding the place, did you?”

            “No, I only got lost twice,” Merrill said as she stepped inside, “People were giving me odd looks, though.”

            “Well, it’s good to have you here,” Hawke said, “Mother, Merrill’s here to keep you company while I’m away.”

            “You know I don’t need to be taken care of, dear,” Leandra said, coming around to the entry hall from the main room, “But it’s good to see you again Merrill.”

            “Oh, it’s good to see you again as well,” Merrill replied, “I wasn’t sure you’d remember me.”

            “Of course, how could I forget the sweet Dalish girl,” Leandra said, “Come in and have some tea, won’t you?”

            “Oh, thank you very much,” Merrill headed into the house with her usual startled look.  One would be surprised at how effective of a fighter she could be if one only saw her in social situations.

            “Have a good evening you two,” Hawke said, turning to leave.  As she was just at the threshold, she stopped suddenly as if she’d just remembered something.

            “Oh yes,” she said, turning back, “I think I have a delivery coming either today or tomorrow for a business venture.  If they do come tonight, can you have them deliver to Varric at the Hanged Man instead?”

            “Of course Hawke,” Merrill called to her as she followed Leandra toward a seat by the fire.

            Hawke walked out into the street, the shadows of some of the taller buildings already starting to stretch out across the streets.  The last piece was in place.

 

**That Evening, At The Designated Time…**

 

            Hawke sat in the back of the Hanged Man watching Sebastian preach.  He didn’t seem to have the hang of it, at least not if the notice he was being paid was any indication.  Still, he was animated and looked thoroughly out of place in his shining white armor.  Hawke briefly wondered how his armor was able to shine so brightly as it did when he never seemed to take it off.  Perhaps that was what he did all day while he sat in the Chantry.

            She had a brief chuckle at the idea of Sebastian hiding in a back room somewhere in the Chantry, polishing his crotch plate while still wearing it.

            She had been waiting for hours now, with her little ruse keeping her out of her own house she didn’t really have much else to do.  She had a hooded cloak on that probably would have made her look fairly suspicious anywhere else in Kirkwall.  She wasn’t entirely sure what one would have to do to look suspicious in the Hanged Man; dress like Sebastian probably.

            “Do you not desire to give up these wicked ways?” Sebastian was preaching as earnestly as ever, “The light of the maker is a path that offers more rewards than villainy and drink ever could.”

            The sun was starting set outside if the light streaming through the high windows was any indication.  Trombull had arrived not too long ago, back from a somewhat profitable trip by the looks of it; she had already bought three rounds and was carousing with a group of sailors near where Isabela could usually be found drinking.  The first part of her plan was in place, now all she had to do was wait.

            Finally, as Sebastian seemed to be hitting a slow section of his sermon, that Fenris walked into the tavern.  He was doing his level best to hide his identity, but between the armor that made the cloak bulge at odd angles, that stalking manner in which he walked, and the fact that he couldn’t get the hood to fully cover his white hair that hung dramatically over one side of his face, it was pretty obvious it who was under it.  Hawke had to force herself to stifle a laugh at the sight of him.  She was fairly sure that he couldn’t tell who she was by looking, but he’d know her voice if he heard it.

            He took a place at the corner of the bar and looked around, trying and failing to appear casual.  He was very lucky that someone acting suspicious wasn’t a very suspicious act in the Hanged Man.  She was pretty sure he was looking around for her, expecting her to be putting her own machinations in place.  He didn’t know that he was the second part of her plan.

            Seemingly satisfied that she wasn’t around, he turned to walk toward the kegs in the corner; a path that would take him right past Trombull.  As he passed her, Hawke saw a ghostly blue light emanate from under his cloak.  He had it covered pretty well and she doubted that anyone who didn’t know what to look for would even notice it, but she saw his hand reach through Trombull’s belt and slip the ‘flint’ out smoothly.  A shame, he might have made a passable thief if he were willing to put some effort into it.  Calmly, he filled a small cup from the keg.

            Hawke’s eyes turned to the door.  It was just about time now; the third part of her plan should be coming through the door just about now.

            And there he was, Anders walked through the door, weaving his way around a few passersby, and glanced around into the crowd.

            Hawke tried to stop herself from ducking down.  She knew he wouldn’t recognize her, disguised as she was, but she never liked the idea of hiding in plain sight.  Anders was still scanning the crowd when Fenris came around the corner of the bar.

            Hawke saw Fenris stiffen at the sight of his rival and couldn’t help a slight smile.  All he had to do was keep his hood down and walk out the door without a word, but he wouldn’t.  He wouldn’t be Fenris if he did that.

            She couldn’t hear him, but she could see Anders start as Fenris made some snide comment.  Fenris tried to push past him, but Anders held him back, replying angrily.  Fenris shouted something in return and their voices rose to the point where Hawke could begin to hear them.  She couldn’t hear every word, and much of what she did hear wasn’t fit for polite conversation, mostly involving indelicate comparisons of the other and indecent parts of Nugs.  She also heard the word ‘spider’ a few times, obviously neither one had yet forgiven the other for that incident.

            The confrontation didn’t stay entirely verbal for very long.  After the exchange of a few barbs, both of the men started to get heated, and their argument began to draw a small crowd.  Not content with merely verbal ripostes, Anders began to punctuate his words with vigorous shoves to Fenris’ shoulder and Fenris returned the same.

            They went on like this for long enough that Hawke began to worry that they wouldn’t be ready in time for the next phase of her plan.  Finally, though, a lucky break.  Anders misjudged the distance as he shoved Fenris roughly and Fenris deftly stepped out of the way.  Anders overbalanced and staggered forward, and Fenris couldn’t manage to get out of the way in time.  Hawke would say that the two of them went down like a felled tree, but no tree she had ever seen went down with so many waving limbs and certainly not with so much swearing.

            Nor did they stop when they hit the ground.  Like two brothers, they wrestled on the ground, though neither one of them really seemed to have any idea what he was doing.  One of these days they were going to realize how similar they were and either their heads would explode or they would wage magical war against the entire world.  Hawke wasn’t sure which of the two she would prefer.

            As the two men grunted and grappled on the floor, she stood up and moved to the edge of the crowd.  Through occasional openings she could see Anders and Fenris on the ground, arms and legs waving wildly.  She chuckled uncontrollably for a moment; when they were like that she could see how the giant spider had mistaken them.  With eight limbs, Anders coat looking a bit like the fuzzy part of a spider’s torso, and Fenris’ hair for fangs, it brought to mind Hawke’s memory of when the beast had tried to mate with them in the cave.

She took a few breaths and regained control over herself.  She needed to hurry, the fourth part of her plan was about to fall into place.  She heard him only a heartbeat before she saw him, Sebastian pushed through the crowd to the fight.

            “What is going on here?” he demanded, “Fenris?  Anders?  Stop this madness at once.”

            Heedless of his own safety, Sebastian dove in and attempted to separate the two of them.  No one in the crowd joined him, they were hooting and hollering excitedly and Hawke heard more than a few bets being made.  She edged her way to the front row of the crowd.

            “You’ll regret that, mage,” Fenris grunted, trying to push Anders away by his face as he raised his other hand holding the flint.

            “Fenris, control yourself,” Sebastian shouted, grabbing Fenris hand and wrestling the flint from him.

            Fenris didn’t seem to notice that his prize was gone; he continued to pull angrily against Sebastian as Anders did the same.  Hawke slipped forward and gently plucked the flint from Sebastian’s hand; he had his hands full with Fenris and Anders and didn’t try to hold on to it at all.  Prize in hand, Hawke slipped back into the crowd.

            She was halfway back out to the edge when she heard Fenris realize that he no longer had the prize.

            “Where is it?” he asked.  Anders and Sebastian were still grunting with effort, he was not going to have the easiest time finding it.  “Did you take the flint?”

            “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Fenris,” Sebastian said, still breathing heavily with effort.

            “It’s like a piece of wood,” Fenris said, then he paused for a second, “Hawke!” he roared, “Where is she?”

            Hawke glanced toward the door.  The final part of the plan should be falling into place right about now.  It had better be.

            She glanced back to see Fenris stalking toward the crowd, his eyes sharp.  Luckily, he had started off in the wrong direction, so she still had some time.  Anders and Sebastian were both picking themselves up off of the floor.

            She looked back toward the door to see it opening and breathed a quick sigh of relief.  An angry looking dwarf slammed it open and shouted, “Here’s your pack of Nugs you ancestor humping bronto!”

            Hawke grinned as a horde of Nugs swarmed in through the door, squeaking furiously and piling over each other in all directions.  She leapt toward Sebastian’s altar, feeling the wind as Fenris’ hand swung just behind her.  She unfastened her cloak and let it flare behind her, catching Fenris, as she used the altar as a launching pad toward the high window at the front of the Hanged Man, recovering herself quickly after a slight stumble on the edge of it, and slipped easily out into the night, laughing with amusement as she went.


End file.
